


Rebirth

by shoutpoles



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: M/M, PWP, Smut, Song-inspired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-09 01:17:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7781266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoutpoles/pseuds/shoutpoles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A broken clock. A broken lock. A broken head…</p><p>He circled back to his room and paused to survey the difference.</p><p>A broken kind of human, on his bed.</p><p>(PWP. Dubcon. Inspired by the DR3 Despair ED.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rebirth

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know, guys. I just watched the latest episode and bam, this came out. Unbeta'd, unedited. Please point out any errors in the comments and I'll get to them as soon as I can.
> 
> This was inspired by the Dangan Ronpa 3 Despair Arc ED, "Ultra Hope Birthday" by Megumi Ogata as Nagito. Take a look at the lyrics to the full version. It's so sexual! I never would have expected it. You can find the lyrics here: http://flagfighter.tumblr.com/post/147564804732/i-just-edited-this-whole-post-since-the-official

 

 

Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick…

Tick, _tick tick tick tick tic_

It was that irregularity that woke him up from his _(boring, empty)_ slumber. It had been a while before anything new came his way. 184 minutes. _Tick tock tick tick tick_ 185

His mind was jolted awake at the possibility of fresh information. It seemed like a long time had passed from when he had just finished rooting through all the files and folders in his room. Within five hours from the post-recovery surgery, he’d memorized every face _(HinataHinataHinataHinataHinata, that was his name)_ , every place, and every happening at Hope’s Peak Academy and the world at large. But this was new. Maybe he could feel excitement again.

He was located at one of the floors on the special research laboratory section of Hope’s Peak: a sparse, blindingly white area reeking of isopropyl alcohol and Novocaine. It was divided into four rooms: His bedroom, the adjoining kitchen, the bathroom beside it, and  _(after_   _a deadbolt and keypad lock with the code 232584)_  the entrance where a watchman stood guard _(as if they could control him)_ at all hours.

He stepped out into the kitchen and spotted ( _within 78 nanoseconds_ ) the ( _2mm)_ crack on the glass of the wall clock _(that was created by a brass cutoff hammer hitting the surface at a 42° angle perpendicular to the wall)_. So that was the cause of the irregularity. His _(engineered manufactured perfect flawless untouchable)_ talent mentally nudged at him, as if to say there was more.

 _(90 nanoseconds)_  After the cold shock of his feet hitting bathroom tile, he smelled the gunpowder. It took him 17 nanoseconds to notice the lock blasted to smithereens _(via trinitroglyceride explosion)_. A full 30 seconds was needed for him to realize that the watchman guarding his door was dead.

The head was bashed in with blunt trauma and excessive force; the weapon marks matched the tool used on the clock. _(Conclusion: one tool. Conclusion: murder, break-in, malicious destruction of property. Punishment: expulsion from Hope's Peak. Punishment: life sentence. Punishment: reduced state of moral well-being. Define: Morali–)_ He frowned as his thoughts started to border on sentimentality and pushed it aside.

In the movement of thoughts, something clicked. _The clock was a distraction._

He began to notice the building air of disquiet, up to the room where he came from. It was as if all the irregularities were leading him to the finale, at the origin: his quarters. There was a 72% chance of it being a trap. But he could indulge this, for now.

His stride quickened. Best to go now before he could figure out the pattern. His mind began turning all the pieces around anyway.

_A broken clock. A broken lock. A broken head…_

He circled back to his room and paused to survey the difference.

_A broken kind of human, on his bed._

Just a glance and he knew everything useful about the boy. From the facial profile: Nagito Komaeda. Class 77. Ultimate talent: _(useless predictable trash)_ luck. Slight bulge on the right side of his temple. Premature greying. Antiseptic smell. Miscellaneous symptoms pointing to Frontotemporal Dementia.

“Ah, you’ve caught me in the act.” The moue on Nagito Komaeda’s lips _(curving into a parabolic smile focal point 4p in .87 seconds)_ curved into a smile.

“You wanted to get caught.” Was this person’s _(good bad good bad even worse)_ luck enough to know who he was? No. Unfortunate for him. But unpredictable. Exciting.

“Have no doubt about it, I wanted to get caught. I feel like I was born to meet you.” ...that was not the predicted response. Neither was the Komaeda boy’s body responding the way he expected: 52% increase in perspiration, rapid breathing, pupils dilated, glassy eyes in general. But not from a preexisting condition, and not from fear. Time to test a hypothesis.

“You were born to be devoted to me, you mean,” he remarked, and observed as the other boy’s breath hitched. He smirked. Hypothesis confirmed: arousal. He filed it away as one of the possible reaction scopes, but for Komaeda only.

He remembered wondering earlier, upon waking up, if it was practical for him to pick up a recreational ultimate talent. His former self might’ve had liked it, even. Now was the time to find out.

Two steps and he leaned down. Lifted the boy’s chin up with his right hand. Grey-green eyes stared back, yielding but also not. Waiting. Observing back. Playfully? Dangerously. Maybe even both.

And now to start where all processes and patterns begin: the basics. Hinata’s _(yes I’ll let you live this dream out)_ lips met Nagito’s. Tentatively at first, then gradually more dominating. His canine nipped at a particularly plush part of the other boy's bottom lip. Nagito seemed more than willing to accept. Soothingly, he sucked and lapped it better until Nagito's lips were puffy from his attentions.

Now that he decided that he’d be Hinata for this encounter, he could feel his old _(human worthless irrational pathetic)_ emotions creeping in. EmbarrassmentFearAngerNauseaArousalArousalArousalA– He quickly locked them out, steel visage in place. _(you watch, I’ll drive)_ His partner Nagito _(let’s call him by his first name, for that societal farce you call romance)_  looked to be too absorbed in the kiss. Even if he noticed the shift in personalities, there was no tell. Light, breathy gasps escaped him as Hinata nipped those succulent, trembling lips and ran his tongue along the other boy’s teeth. 

With the heat building up between them it became apparent that it wasn’t enough; they had to get closer. Nagito clung onto him for dear life as Hinata grabbed a tuft of _(surprisingly soft)_ hair and tugged. He was rewarded with a gasp, letting him attack Nagito’s mouth even further as his other hand reached downward to reach for the other boy’s crotch.

 _Evidence of a physiological reaction to–_ he was hard, Hinata thought, forcefully giddy. His hands positioned themselves to either side of Nagito’s hips, sliding down under the pants and underwear to cup at his ass. Using that position as leverage, he ground down onto him.

“Ah!” at this point Nagito was just a mess of pants and moans, occasionally breaking their wet, messy kiss when it became too much. He broke their liplock and craned his neck as an invitation. Hinata bared his teeth and bit hard, just not quite enough to break skin. He could almost see the bruises form instantaneously under Nagito’s translucent paleness, as beautiful as the chorus of cries and shouts that the boy was making.

More… he needed more.

Both boys were panting by the time all their clothes were removed. Nagito felt especially close to the edge, Hinata noticed. He been wanting to try this out too, anyway. In one smooth motion, he leaned down and took all of Nagito in his mouth, willing his gag complex away. The resulting keening sound from the other boy ground enough to regulate his breathing as he kept it all in.

Once in control, Hinata stretched his lips around Nagito's cock, tongue flickering at the underside to stimulate the concentration of sensory glands underneath. He cupped the other boy's balls and continued his sucking, swallowing motions, occasionally sliding all the way down until he could press his nose flat against musky skin.

Backing up, he paid more attention to the smooth, velvety head. Hinata ran his tongue into the slit, teasing and tasting the salty musk of precum. He reveled in lapping at the tip, guiding Nagito's now-flailing hands onto his own weeping cock. Setting their paces to match, he took Nagito once again in his mouth and began to suck in earnest. 

It didn't take much for the oversensitized boy to reach his peak. Nagito yelled as he came. Hinata swallowed the first few jets, but switched to milking the other boy's cock with his his right hand while coating his left hand's fingers with the creamy, slippery substance.

There wasn't a lot of resistance, with Nagito basking in the afterglow. His muscles were relaxed enough that Hinata was able to gradually work enough fingers in him to loosen him up even further and prepare him for what was to come. With Nagito still a shuddering, incoherent mess, Hinata withdrew his fingers and slicked himself up. He lined the head up against Nagito’s stretched, twitchy hole and slammed his pelvis forward, filling the boy up to the hilt in one thrust.

He got a loud howl from Nagito in reply; the tight, wet heat around him pulsated and shuddered like crazy. He stayed in place to pace himself until he felt the other boy’s flesh relax, chest heaving with the effort of it. The other boy was in pain, leaving deep scratches on Hinata’s back with sharp nails.

Hinata gently thrust up, burying himself even further into Nagito. He slowly moved until just his tip was inside the other boy, and slammed in yet again. In, out, in, out, the simplest binary pattern in the book, and he was doing a damn good job of keeping up the rhythm, staying at the same angle, and driving Nagito breathy with want and need. Then the other boy shifted his hips and– ah, he felt himself brushing up the firm bundle of nerves _(make up mess up down up)_ and his brain couldn’t keep up with the patterns anymore. There were no patterns. Or were there?

There was a bright flash of light and he felt– he never felt this intense pleasure before, he wanted to contain and bottle and file it away but the sensation stubbornly held– it blinded away all the patterns and numbers and _tick tocks_ in his head. Nagito could feel it too, he knew: the wet, puckering sounds of flesh meeting flesh staggered erratically, forgoing rhythm and elegance for speed and force and moans of _harder, faster, oh please harder_.

He rode out wave after wave after wave until _(break up use up end up)_ the sphincter muscles around his dick quivered and tightened, squeezing even tighter down on him. His eyes fluttered closed, as if to feel every motion wholly since they insolently they refused to be clamped down. He could feel rather than hear Nagito wail and moan, in sync with every lewd twitch as the boy’s ass kept on milking him; with it came the sensation of his cum dribbling and spurting out of that tight wet hole with every twitch.

For the first time, he could feel the facts and the statistics and processes and information slipping away; it was a truly novel experience. But in the corners of his brain there were already building blocks of sex and reactions and a truly wondrous collection of every moan and gasp and breathy sigh from Nagito. Wondrous, but… suddenly familiar. If this continued, the excitement would be lost and he would be bored again.

A few moments into that limp, boneless, addicting feeling, Nagito started talking. About schemes. Killing games, school-wide suicides, world chaos. Hinata started lining up the patterns in his mind and thought it made perfect sense.

"But... no matter what happens, it's of no concern to me. I will not be able to participate in what lies ahead." Hinata murmured, staring at the wall.

"Hm? Really...?" The other boy's ramblings were cut off. "I don't really understand, but I guess we have to part ways for a while. That's disappointing, we seemed to get along pretty well." There was some shuffling, and a pause before Nagito spoke again:

"...Hey, can I see you again?" Hinata could see a future: of moans and lovely sights and sensations slowly fading into the grey monotony of the world. Maybe when they met again... But he could also see the tentative hope in Nagito's eyes. That hope would have to be crushed before it blossomed. Izuru stalked back to the forefront of his brain, and made him turn to the side and give the boy an apathetic look.

"There is no reason to meet again. After all... you are boring." Izuru narrowed his eyes as he moved in for the kill. "Your talent, your thoughts, your entire existence is boring to me."

Nagito (tried and failed to conceal but Hinata saw that he) shrank back, flinching as if physically hurt. Also, (Hinata further noted with a numb feeling in his chest) as if he had expected it. "...You really don't play along, do you?"

Izuru maintained his impassive stare until Nagito looked away. Gently, the softening member was slid out of him. _(2 minutes and 48 seconds)_ Later, Nagito gingerly stepped off the bed and limped to the bathroom. He had his clothes in his arms and ~~Izuru~~ ( **Hinata's** ) cum dripping down from his violated, puckery reddened hole down to the fingernail marks on his thighs.

It was best not to get too used to him. He had to leave some for next time.

 

~

 

When Hinata woke up on the sunny tropical island, right below Nagito’s worried face, there was a flash of _EmbarrassmentFearAngerNauseaArousalArousalArousalA–_

And then it was gone.


End file.
